Alone
by pharo
Summary: Tess’ thoughts.


Alone ****

Alone

Author: Pharo

Disclaimer: Roswell belongs to Jason Katims, UPN, and Melinda Metz.

Summary: Tess' thoughts.

Feedback: [pharo@onebox.com][1]

The cold wind caused the trees to sway in all directions. It seemed like they were silently dancing to music only they could hear. It was dark outside; not that it mattered to me anyway. My room always held an awful, gray tint, not matter what it looked like outside. 

I tried to push my head as far out of the window as possible without getting it stuck between the bars. I looked down at eerie shadows cast on the pavement. I aimlessly looked around at the figures, wishing for an answer…a form of guidance…anything that could help me figure out what to do. I kept trying to sort out the scattered thoughts plaguing my mind.

All I came back to was that day at the Crashdown. I didn't know where I thought I was headed when I tried to run out of the small alien-theme restaurant that had, over time, become like a second home to me. The air in there had felt so…heavy and constricting that I just had to get out of there. It's ironic now, considering that the place that I was in right now was small enough to _make_ me claustrophobic. 

I had completely lost it that day. All the questions, the looks of fear on the faces that I had never wanted to hurt—all that was enough to just drive me insane. 

And apparently, they had thought so too. I can still picture the men in their pale, white jumpsuits coming to take me away. I screamed and shouted as they pulled me away from the few people that I had truly trusted. 

"Max! Max! Don't let them take me away. Max, please!"

And he looked straight at me—straight into my eyes. His normally warm, brown eyes now held the image of cold, muddy water, void of any emotion whatsoever. He just stared straight at me for the longest five seconds of my life and—I knew what he was going to do before he even did it—he looked away. Max, who I thought would never turn away from me, flat out refuse to help me, completely turning his back on me. 

"Let go of me." I shouted. 

To this, the men replied by tightening their grasp on me.

"Help me! Please, don't let them do this to me. I didn't mean to—"

But it was useless. None of them could bring themselves to look at me. My last image of them was blurred with the tears caused by the pangs of betrayal.

And as I remembered the day for what was probably the third night since they put me in this silent hell, I felt those tears come back again.

I slowly stepped back from the window, trying to focus my mind on something else, which was not as easy as it might sound. It wasn't like my little room—cell—had a big-screened TV waiting for me to turn it on. I didn't have magazines just lined up, waiting for me to pick up and start reading. The room was stark, definitely not having as many items as the room back home. 

Home. Where was home? Was it here? Well, not "here" here, but Earth here. Or was it the distant planet waiting for me to return? At a time, I thought I knew where my real home was, but now, I wasn't even sure. I mean, how could home possibly be a place where the few people who shared this incredible bond with you, abandoned you. Given the confused state that my mind was in, I didn't even want to try to understand why he—they—did to me. 

I knew I could easily break out of the ward by using my "abilities", but I didn't. I couldn't jeopardize them like that, not even after what they did to me. I kept wishing that they would come back for me, that they would break me out of the place after they realized what exactly had happened. Call me loyal, call me naïve, but I just can not put their lives in danger like that. I can't betray them again. My betraying them had made them betray me.

Ugh…I hate this place. Everything about it makes me want to scream. I hate the food, the cells, the doctors, even the patients—I hate it all. I don't want to have any treatment or to swallow down the stupid pills. I don't want to make "friends" during therapy. I hate everyone and everything; yet, I don't want to be alone either. When I'm alone in my stupid room, all I hear are my stupid thoughts, which give me the urge to pull out my stupid hair. All I want to do is go home (there's that stupid word again). 

The medicine man, I think his name is Bill, is making his rounds again. He's the only company I get at this time, even if he is here for like two minutes. He comes, hands me the little cup with my pills in it, and watches me as I pop them into my mouth and wash them down with some water. Then, since they don't trust me (not that I would even trust me), he tells me to open my mouth so he can make sure that the pills are in my system and not hiding in my mouth. 

I tried talking to him once, but the one-minute-conversation ended up being one-sided: Me talking to myself, which I could have done without his presence. After that I just gave up on him and did as I was told. After all, that was what they wanted you to do in this stupid place. 

I don't belong in a place like this…a place where they take away all your freedom and brush it off as "trying to help you". I'm not one of the basket cases that walk around these halls, not ever actually paying attention to their actions. I am not crazy. 

I don't need to be in here to figure out the error of my ways—I know it already. I think a part of me knew from the beginning, the middle, and after it had all gone down. I knew and still acted. Does that make me a bad person? Or does that make me really determined?

***

I never thought it would actually happen, but it did. One of them actually came to visit me—Isabel, to be exact. She was one of the last people, next to Max, that I'd ever expected to walk through these doors and pay me a visit. It was awkward to see her again.

A million things swirled around in my head when I first saw her—things that I wanted to say, apologies I wanted to make—but in the end, all that came out of my mouth was, "I didn't expect you to come by."

"Yeah, well, I didn't expect to ever find myself here." She replied, cool as ice.

Neither had I, but here I was. Life is unpredictable.

"So, why are you here? Did you pick the short end of the straw or something?" I asked, surprise making me defensive.

She sighed sadly. 

"Why'd you do it?"

That'd when it hit. It felt that a ton of bricks were being flung at me. I found myself gasping for air, as the realization came that I had broken her—broken all of them. What kind of friend was I to take away a piece of their souls? The person sitting in front of me was evidence of that. 

She was a shadow of herself. Sure, on the outside, she could still be "the Ice Queen". But, her eyes betrayed her. Deep in her brown eyes were the tiny slivers of pain that even she was unable to cover up. Pain that I had cost.

I realized then that she was staring at me for an answer.

"I ask myself that everyday. I'm not some cold and calculating killer. I never wanted things to end that way."

"Did you really want to go home that badly?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

I looked down at my hands as the words began tumbling from my soul.

"Have you ever felt like you don't belong? Like no matter what you do or how hard you try, things will never be just quite right? That's how I felt."

"But, you were one of us!" She insisted.

I flinched when I heard the word "were". 

"I know. You guys were like my family. And no matter how much I loved you all, I guess it was just never good enough for me. I was selfish. I mean, even with all that, there was always a part of my heart that wanted to go back home. It was like this constant lingering sensation. The chance to go back was close enough to taste. It was like a book that you can't quite reach on your own and so you need a ladder. Well, he was my ladder. He was my chance to make it back…back to where I belong." 

"Damn it, use his name! It wasn't just a 'he', it was Alex." She shouted.

I felt the tears well up inside, felt my heart crying.

"I can't." I said softly.

"Why?"

"Because then it would all be real." 

"Guess what? It is." She said, leaving my room.

I shivered as I sat on the bed, staring out the window, watching her leave. The air inside was different now—colder. An overwhelming sadness had come over the room, engulfing me. I felt an unbearable pain in my heart.

I slowly brought out the small picture that I kept under my pillow. With the exception of Michael, everyone was dressed up for prom, our radiant smiles unaware of the horror that was yet to come.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, clutching the small picture to the place where my heart was supposed to be. Right now, that place felt empty.

***

Tears, tears, and even more tears—that's all I am right now.

I can't stop crying. All it takes is one simple memory or item that reminds me of them and I'm a goner. I just break out in tears and can't stop them from falling. 

Part of me wishes that they could prescribe something to make the tears stop, make the sadness disappear, make me normal again. With all the pills they have in here, they should really have something like that. I know it would make at least half of the patients' lives better, including mine. 

Not feeling the sorry or guilt would be wonderful. I wouldn't have to wonder "what if". I could go on living my life and be ok. But I guess that's the price you pay when you take the life of another. 

It's almost like I'm living double the suffering…his and my own. It's like when I killed him, I inherited all the pain he was supposed to feel through the rest of his life. That combined with my own agony is enough to practically kill me.

Some days, I wake up with so much ache in my body that I can hardly even move. I stay in bed all day and try to get my body to stop hurting. I long for some sort of cool sensation to take the raw misery away like icy water putting out a fire. 

Those are the days when I think of Max. I do that a lot. It's not like I have romantic feelings for him; I never did. Even when we were going through that whole "destiny" thing, it was more of an obligation to what I have to do than a want to be his girlfriend. He was my friend, always had been, and always thought would be.

If he were here, all the pain would go away. He would make it go away. He'd wave his hands over my heart and mend it from all the harm. He'd bring it back to life…bring _me_ back to life. 

Or at least, he _would_ do all these if he were still my friend. Nowadays, when I think back to that look that he threw at me, it makes me feel like I never actually knew him at all or he didn't know me. Either way, it makes me feel that we are no closer than two strangers passing each other on the street are. 

And I get sad when I feel that hurt in my head, all the memories flooding back as I find myself missing that stranger so much. 

***

Looking around in the darkness, I wrapped the sheets tighter around myself. The shadows from outside played across the wall and on the floor of my room. I had been promoted from the small cell to a patient room. My roommate was hardly ever in our room, so it was pretty much like it was all mine. The room looked blue due to the lack of light. 

The power had suddenly flickered out a couple of minutes ago. The janitor and some of the orderlies were trying to get it back up, while others were trying to restore order. Screams were heard from the patients that they were trying to calm down. One of them had peeked into my room to see if I was alright. After I nodded, she had headed to the next room to check on my neighbor.

Now, I heard my door slowly creak open. I turned to see who it was, but I could only make out the figure's silhouette. It was probably one of the orderlies.

"When are the lights—" 

For a faint second, the guy stepped into a portion of the room where moonlight was filtering in. When I realized who it was, I was unable to continue my sentence. I got up and backed against the window.

"Alex?"

I couldn't believe my own eyes, but there he was. Standing four feet away from me was the boy that I had killed. He looked the same as he had that day, his eyes still bearing the same confusion and pain. 

His lips were moving, but I couldn't hear any sound coming from his mouth. It seemed like he was repeating something. When I figured out what he was chanting, my blood froze.

"You killed me."

"No, Alex. You don't understand—"

He stepped back into the light, but he wasn't Alex anymore. He had become a completely different person. 

The person standing in front of me had eyes holding the murky, cold image when I looked into them. He had changed since I last remembered him. There were more lines on his forehead, meaning the stress was finally taking its toll on him. He looked older and even more serious than he was back then. 

"What…what are you doing here? You don't belong here." I stuttered.

"But you do." He said, his voice icy cold.

"I'm not crazy." I replied, trying to convince myself more than him.

"You're a liar, you're a killer, you're a cold-blooded murderer." He shouted.

"No, I'm not!"

"You used us all for you own purposes. We never meant anything to you!"

"No! Max, please—"

"I hope you rot in this place." He shouted, now standing next to me, hand on the windowsill.

"Don't say that!"

"We are all going to die because of you."

And before the sentence could settle in, he looked out of the window and hurled his body through. 

"It's all your fault." He shouted as he fell.

I tried to grab a hold of him, but all I caught was air.

"MMMAAAXXX!" I shouted, looking down into the never-ending drop.

And before I could do anything else, this flash of light shot upward, blinding me.

I jumped straight up and blinked open my eyes to find myself in my room. The air rushed in through the open window and the curtains were fluttering due to the breeze. I looked around to find any evidence of anyone else being in the room, besides me. My nightgown was drenched with sweat. 

It had all been a dream. All a really bad nightmare. I must've fallen asleep waiting for the electricity to come back on. When it did, I had woken up.

"Oh jeez. This place is making me insane." I said aloud, out of breath from the intense reality of the illusion.

***

Funny, how I used to love the night. It was a time when everything was masked in mystery, when I felt I could do anything with that cool air surrounding me. Now, I hate the night. I don't have that freedom anymore. 

All the night brings me was visions of him. I dread the moment when darkness falls, knowing I'll see the visions of him. He comes, he screams, he disappears. I always see the same terrible look in his eyes—the look of fear, hurt, and most of all betrayal. 

I want so badly to just close my eyes or look away or do something so that I won't have to see that horrible look, yet for some reason, every night I am compelled to stare into those eyes. I just remain there, frozen to watch his every move and the emotions shown through his eyes. 

Why can't I just say, "Alex, please, just…just leave me alone"? Why can't I do that?

Just like I've broken them down, this place is breaking me down. I'm not that strong person I used to think I was…or at least pretend to be. The truth of the matter is, I was never really that strong. Inside, I was scared to death. But, I couldn't let people see that. I had to seem fearless, even if I wasn't. That was just the way it had to be.

But in here, I have nothing to even pretend about. 

What's the point of acting like I'm invincible? Most of these people don't care. They have their own issues to worry about to pay attention to my power status. And others know that I'm vulnerable. They can see it in my eyes, in my expressions. 

After all, if I were truly strong, I wouldn't be in here.

***

I slowly opened my eyes to see his face staring back at me. It had been awhile since I saw his hallucination.

"No more hallucinations. Just go." I said, my voice barely a whisper. 

I closed my eyes and tried to get up, but it was too hard. My body felt so weak that I decided to give it a little rest. There'd be no harm in that. It wasn't like I had any important activities ahead of me. 

"It's not a hallucination. I'm real." The voice said.

I sighed, opening my eyes. He was still there, but there was something different about him. 

His eyes…something had changed in them. They didn't hold the cold expression anymore. They had become more gentle. There were like they used to be, back in the old days, but not quite. His eyes held sadness, unlike I'd ever seen in them those many months ago.

"Max?"

"Yeah, I'm really here." He said, his voice soft.

"What are you doing here?" I said; trying to get the image in front of me focused.

"I came to see you."

For a moment, he had this downhearted expression on his face. But he quickly tried to cover it up with one of those fake smiles that everyone uses from time to time. It didn't slip by me, though.

Suddenly, I was terribly aware of my surroundings. This wasn't my bed or my room. It was the infirmary ward. I looked down at my arms to see an IV tube leading into it. Why was I in the hospital ward?

"What happened? Why am I in here?" I asked, my voice rising in panic.

"I'm sorry…"

But his voice drifted off as I lost my concentration on him. I knew exactly why I was in here, whether I wanted to admit it or not. I suppose it wasn't that bad. I'd finally get out of here, just not the way I wanted. 

"I'm dying, aren't I?" I asked, softly.

"No! No, you're not!" 

"I deserve it." I said, trying to smile at him.

"No, you don't. I'm sorry for—"

"Max, you're not sorry. You can't possibly be. I wouldn't be if I were you. But, it's all right. I came to terms with this awhile ago."

But I saw the desperate look in his eyes, heard it in his voice.

"Listen, everything is going to be OK." He said, struggling to control his emotions.

"How?"

"I'll make it OK. Just…just don't go. Please, just don't go." He begged with the tears in his eyes.

He didn't even try to wipe them away as he stared at me, his eyes pleading with mine.

"I wanted you to come so badly when I first got here. Even after what I'd done to you, I wanted to see you, to tell you that I'm sorry and to ask you to try, one day, to forgive me. Now I have go."

"No! You can't…I won't let you!" He shouted.

"Max, I have to. I need to tell Alex how sorry I am. I need to let you guys live your lives without worrying about me. It's time for me to leave. Good-bye, Max."

"No, it's too soon—"

But, I felt a little pull and knew that soon it would be over. All the misery would go away. I'd finally have release. I'd finally get to tell Alex. 

I slowly started to get the numb sensation in my toes. It was traveling up my body like warm water. So that's what it felt like. No pain, no hurt, just calm.

"I'm sorry…" I whispered, before slowly closing my eyes.

   [1]: mailto:pharo@onebox.com



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